


with every several pleasure in the world

by lostnoise



Series: heavenly company [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Billy Hargrove Needs Love, Billy Hargrove Redemption, Billy Hargrove Tries to Be a Better Person, Billy Hargrove-centric, Class Differences, First Kiss, Frottage, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, Lord’s Son Steve Harrington, M/M, Making Out, Neck Kissing, Neil is dead, Prequel, Religious Guilt, Rich Steve Harrington, Slow Burn, Soft Billy Hargrove, Soft Boys, Soft Steve Harrington, Spoiled Steve Harrington, Stable Hand Billy Hargrove, more tags to come, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:41:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27685060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostnoise/pseuds/lostnoise
Summary: Billy comes to Hawkins with a chip on his shoulder the size of his dead father and a need to help provide for his tiny family of Max and Susan. When he starts working at the Harrington Estate in the stables, he’s charged with getting the obstinate horse of the lord’s son into workable manner.Little did Billy know that more would come from his new position as a stable hand than ever imaginable.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: heavenly company [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024431
Comments: 24
Kudos: 88





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote the second part first, before this little prequel, but you can read that one first if you want. I wrote it for my friend’s birthday and then was inspired to write this prequel. I’m finished and edited through chapter 5, so you can expect semi-regular updates.
> 
> Huge shout out to Anna for encouraging my love of historical romances and beta reading all the chapters.
> 
> The title of this story, like the title of the last story and the title of the series, comes from Henry VI by Shakespeare.

Billy gets the job at the Harrington estate thanks to Susan. She moved them to Hawkins a month after Neil died at the bottom of a bottle and Billy feels like he can breathe for the first time. He’s not afraid of a belt being brandished to whip him for some perceived indiscretion; he’s not afraid of the clunk of boots on the floor outside of his room. Instead, he sleeps the easiest he ever has. Susan moves them to Hawkins, working at the Wheeler estate as a maid, while her sister works at the Harrington estate.

Married to the head cook, no less.

And so Billy plods through fields and down trails and roads until he reaches the Harrington estate, a twenty minute walk from town, and finds his way to the stables. It’s just past sunrise, and other than the stable master, Billy’s the only other person amongst the horses.

The stable master sizes him up with squinted eyes, almost as if he’s trying to peer into Billy to judge his capability. Billy’s seventeen and stockier than many boys his own age. He’s strong and he works hard, and Billy is determined to prove himself in this man’s eyes.

“You worked with horses before?” The master sounds like he smokes a pipe every night. His voice is gruff and skeptical, and Billy feels a shiver run down his spine.

All he wants to do is be able to help provide for his little family. It’s just Susan working for the Wheelers and Max, who’s so young, and Billy and Susan both are trying to save what they can for books so she can learn to read where Susan can’t, and where Billy soars if only for the escape it provides. She sneaks lessons with Constable Hopper’s young ward, Eleanor, when she can. And Susan shouldn’t be providing for both of them, not when Billy is old enough and strong enough to work.

“Yes, sir,” Billy nods. “When I lived in the city, sir, I worked in the stables and several fine houses.” He licks his lips as he isn’t sure what else to say of his work experience. “I used to apprentice for a farrier as well, sir, when I was twelve. I have a fine hand with spooked ones, sir.”

“Then you’ll be mucking out Puck’s stall,” the stable master instructs with a tick of his eyebrow. “See how fine a hand you have with _that_ beast.”

Billy gulps, wishing he hadn’t made himself out to be some sort of horse whisperer if it meant getting sent to take a problem horse out to a paddock and clean out a stall that, more than likely, hasn’t been touched in a while. _Still,_ he thinks to himself. _That poor horse._

“Last stall on the left,” the master calls over his shoulder.

He walks off to get the easier horses led out to the fields. Billy takes a deep breath in and feels a familiar sense of confidence from being in the stables. The smell of dirty hay and horses, the cold stone of the building far from warming up with the spring sun only having just come up.

He tracks down the stall and smells it before he even sees the pale stallion inside, and the filth around its feet. The poor thing is dirty up to its knees and will need a good washing. A deep whine in the horse’s throat makes Billy’s heart ache a little in his chest. He wants nothing more than to soothe the poor thing’s worries. So, taking stock of what exactly needs to happen, he finds the tack room and grabs a lead to thread around the horse’s neck. With a small prayer sent up to the Lord, Billy carefully opens the stall.

Sliding in alongside the horse as slowly as he could, Billy made sure not to startle the poor beast. He’ll have to scrub his boots down when he gets home, ankle deep in horse shit and urine-soaked hay, but he’s more concerned about the urine causing any kind of burns. The first step, however, is to get the horse out of the stall.

So Billy pressed a slow, steady hand to the side of Puck’s neck, fingers fanning out over the coarse, dirty hair. He knows that the stable master had asked this of him to prove himself handy. He’s still young and no proper stables for a proper home can abide by layabouts who get underfoot and cause chaos, and Billy doesn’t want to cause any trouble with his new position. The Harringtons are the wealthiest family in Hawkins and Billy could make good money here.

“Shhh,” he hushes, rubbing carefully along the horse’s neck. He’s careful not to get too close to the horse’s legs, staying out of reach to get kicked. Billy remembers a boy who died back in the city from a blow to the head by the back feet of a spooked horse.

So he takes his time, let’s the poor beast get used to him, and slowly, with incremental movements and none of them sudden, inches the lead around the horse’s neck. He feels like he’s uncovered the biggest diamond, getting this far, and he still has so much more to do. Billy thinks this animal needs to stretch its legs and is so focused that he nearly knocks into someone as he is carefully leading Puck out of his stall.

Billy almost drops the lead in his surprise, though he’s more in awe of the fact that Puck has no reaction to the presence of someone new.

“What are you doing?!” comes the demand from this newcomer.

Billy picks his head up, ready to lay into whomever is about to make his first day hellish. But his eyes land not on some worker like himself, but a boy - a young man in age, but such a young face - in fineries that Billy has only ever seen in passing on the richer nobles he’s worked for, and none quite as fine as these. Perhaps it is the boy’s face, fresh and pale and dotted with two little moles on his cheek. Or his strong nose, or his pink lips, pouting. But, if Billy is honest with himself, it’s the eyes, big and dark and round even under furrowed eyebrows angry from the collision of bodies.

This must be the young lord, the master of the house’s son Steven Harrington. He’s strikingly fashionable with the silver filigree-style brocade of his vest, and fitted trousers over clean, white stockings, white as snow. Pure. Billy fights back the urge to think untoward things about someone who has authority over him.

So Billy bows low, trepidation tingling every nerve of his body. He’s hot under his shirt from the worry that this young lord is cruel and will fire him for the accident of running into him.

“I’m sorry, sir, I- I was asked by the stable master to muck this horse’s stall. Sir.” Billy swallows nervously and chances a look up through his eyelashes. Dark brown eyes gaze back down at him, seemingly startled for some reason from the way the boy’s mouth hangs parted and curious. “I’m trying to lead him out to the paddock, if you- if you would let me.”

The boy takes a large step back, then a second, and collides with the wall in a clumsy movement that makes Billy wince in sympathy.

“Uh,” the boy stutters, fighting to right himself and tugging at his vest with shaky fingers. “I’m- that is, go right ahead then. Are you new?”

“I am, sir. This is my first day.”

Strands of dark hair fall out of the ribbon tying back his hair and fall across his forehead and onto his cheeks. Billy can’t help but think to himself, _How beautiful._

He quickly shoves that thought to the very back of his mind.

“What is your name?” the young lord asks, licking his lips, and Billy can’t help the way his eyes flick down to his mouth before he glanced away.

“I am William, sir,” he introduces himself with another bow. “William Hargrove.”

“William.” The boy says his name like he’s rolling it around in his mouth, testing the weight and taste of it on his tongue. “William. I am Steven Harrington, heir to this estate.” The words are formal as anything Billy’s ever heard from a noble, perfectly affected with manners and confidence. Polite and direct. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance. That is my horse, Puck.” The boy toys with something in his hand, and when Billy glances down, he sees an apple that the boy no doubt filched for the horse to snack on. “No one has been able to tame him. We’ve had such a hard time getting him out of the stall. I try to visit him and he seems to like me… Or, at least, he likes the treats I bring for him.”

Steve’s smile is… disarming. The bristles that usually come to Billy’s defense are calmed as thoroughly as the hose behind him.

Billy takes the lead more firmly and raises his chin a hair. Suddenly, he wants less to prove himself to the stable master and more to prove himself to this pretty boy in front of him. It feels a little like a challenge he can surmount, now, with the proper motivation.

“I’ll do my best with him, sir,” Billy promises. And he carefully leads the horse down the hall, keeping his footfalls slow and quiet, and hushing Puck with calming noises and soft brushes of his hand over his muzzle.

“Easy boy, easy,” Billy coaxes with each subsequent few feet that they gain.

Soon enough they’re at the doorway that leads down to the paddocks. When Billy looks up, he catches sight of the young lord standing there, biting at his lower lip and blushing a beautiful pink that makes Billy inhale sharply. That look alone is enough to tempt him to do very bad things.

Very, very bad.

Billy blinks slowly and passes a hand down Puck’s neck, then ducks his head and turns, heading out to the pasture.

There’s work to be done.

~

When Billy gets home on his first day at the Harrington stables, he’s exhausted to the bone. Shucking off his boots outside the front door, he pokes his head inside the small cottage. “Maxine? Can you fetch me fresh clothes from my room?”

“What, are you that dirty from a single day’s work?!” comes the giggled reply as Max comes around the corner in a flurry of skirts only to stop dead with her mouth dropped open in surprise. “Oh, Billy, what happened to you? Did you get dragged through the mud by a horse?”

“Yes,” Billy bemoans, sending her a pleading look. “My clothes, Maxine, so I may clean and dress myself. I’ve to scrub my boots down as well. They’re absolutely wrecked.”

Billy heads for the tiny shack behind their tiny two-bedroom cottage on the edge of Hawkins to wait for Max and start working on scrubbing his boots off in a rusted pail with water from the giant barrel next to the shack and a rag. They don’t have a lot of money, but they’re able to live here and make a life for themselves away from the lingering ghost of Neil back in the city. The freedom of walking through fields in his down time, the miles of blue sky - Billy always thought he’d become a sailor one day, just to explore more of the sky, the sea, to have real freedom in lands and waters unexplored. He’d been ready, once he turned 18, to join the military and get out from under Neil’s foot.

Now that he’s gone, it’s hard… so very hard not to let a lifetime of treatment affect him. But he already can see the way Susan doesn’t flinch every single time Max flings open the front door, or the way she teaches him how to braid Max’s hair. He sees the way Max doesn’t tip-toe downstairs in the morning, or hang her head and look at people from beneath the curtain of her hair. He can see how his voice goes easily warmer around Max rather than holding back his fondness, or the way he’s started calling Susan “mother” on accident, or the way he feels like he can breathe again, like there’s no stone the size of the ocean sitting upon his chest any longer.

Max arrives with his clothes and wrinkles her nose at the state of his boots and the grimy water when he dumps the bucket into the grass. “Seriously, you were dragged through the mud?”

“Among other things,” Billy grumbles, scrubbing harder at the soles. He glances up and sees Max looking eagerly at him for the story of his day, and he sighs and rolls his eyes. He supposes she’s better than anyone else to recount what had happened to him.

He begins with the morning and coaxing the pale stallion Puck out of his stall, then running into the young master of the house.

Billy had managed to get Puck out into a paddock, though the horse remained skittish and temperamental around the other horses. Then he mucked the stall - it’d been as bad as it looked and smelled, and he too looked and smelled awful by the end of it. But he’d cleaned the stone and wood walls, laid down fresh hay, and felt more than a little accomplished after the entire ordeal was done and the stall looked practically new. At least, it looked as new as an old stable stall could look. It was midday by then, and when he’d gone out to feed the horses, he found Puck nipping at the other horses’ hindquarters.

Knowing he’d have to find another paddock for the horse until the master got a handle on him to train and socialize properly with the other horses, Billy grabbed the same lead as he’d used to take Puck out to the pasture and… that’s where things started to go downhill.

Because Billy had a hell of a time trying to get Puck away from the other horses, who were grumbling and pacing back and forth before galloping off. When Billy finally managed to get the rope around Puck’s neck, the horse took off and Billy had fallen face down right into a mud puddle. The sudden splash startled Puck, the shifty horse whinnying and taking off, and Billy let go of the rope to avoid being dragged any further. Thankfully, once he’d gotten Puck’s rope and finally calmed the horse enough to lead him to another paddock, the stable master caught sight of him and let Billy soak his head and face.

Max lets out a loud peel of laughter and that alone is enough to soothe the ache of his bones from his first day at his new job. It’d been humiliating, absolutely, to have the stable master see him like that, but Billy knows he did a good job when, at the very end of the day, after he’d managed to lure Puck back into his stall with half an apple, the master told him to come back tomorrow.

“I wish I could have seen you fall right into the mud,” Max giggles, and Billy scoffs and rolls his eyes, but he’s pleased as pie. “Oh, but at least you’re going back tomorrow. I know how much you like horses.”

“Yes, and these are nice horses,” Billy says, licking his lips. He thinks about Puck, and about the young man he’d met that day. Steven. The young _lord_. His employer, in a way. He seems nice, too. “Puck just needs to warm up to me.”

“I’m glad you’re being optimistic,” Max tells him, venturing close enough to kick him gently with the very toe of her own shoe, then she retreats with a wrinkled nose again. “Ugh. You may as well _burn_ those old clothes. They’re filthy, Billy. You smell.”

“I know, Maxine,” he sighs. “They were my good clothes, too. Maybe once I get my first payment I can buy some more. Maybe Susan will help me with a lye wash?”

Max nods encouragingly and Billy nods too.

“It’ll work out fine. Now, go finish helping mother with dinner.” Max brightens up when she notices the slip up and Billy winces. It still feels like an affront to his own mother, the one who birthed him, to call another woman _mother_. But that’s what Susan is to him, and to Max. 

They’re a little family, the three of them. They take care of each other in ways that can only bloom and flourish now that the shadow of Neil has been removed and the sunlight of happiness warms them from the inside out.

He stands and stretches, feeling better now that he talked about what a shitty day it’d been with Max.

“Seriously, leave. Unless you want to watch me wash the mud from my crack!”

Max makes a show of being grossed out, pretending to vomit on the ground, and then screeching when Billy starts towards her, as if scared to be touched by such a smelly beast. Billy snickers before he points to the cottage again.

“Go!” he laughs. “Let me wash in peace!”

Billy grabs two more pails and fills them with water, and fills the bucket he’d used for his shoes and gets his dirtied clothes soaking inside of it. He takes his time scrubbing down with another rag, cleaning every inch of skin he can find until it’s time to dunk his head in the bucket.

It’s as he’s washing his hair, scrubbing mud out of thick golden ringlets, that the young lord flits to his mind again. _Pretty boy,_ Billy thinks to himself. 

He emerges from the small shack a fresh pink from his wash. Staring up at the sky, taking in the shades of pink and orange over the tree line, Billy breathes in deeply and feels something inside of him settle.

That’s how Billy discovers that freedom tastes like sunset in Hawkins on a cool, spring evening.


	2. Chapter 2

“Feed Puck and get him tacked up if you can,” the stable master instructs when Billy shows up the next morning. No one else has arrived but the stable master, whose words are blunt and to the point, brooking no room for arguments.

Not that Billy is anywhere close to wanting to argue with him. He needs this job. And, honestly, he likes it. He likes working with horses more than he’s ever liked working with people. 

For the next six months, Billy works with Puck to get him tacked up on the good day, where he isn’t feeling too feisty. Sometimes Puck will nip at him, or nibble at his hair, and Billy has to help correct some of that behavior. On the days where Puck is feeling extra finicky, Billy walks the stallion around the stables and lets him out into an empty paddock. It’s slow going, getting Puck used to human touch slowly but surely.

One Saturday evening, the week after Billy’s eighteenth birthday, the stable master stops Billy when he dismisses all the stable hands and places a small pouch of coin in his hand. “You’re a good worker. Got a way with horses that we need around here.”

Hearing that small bit of praise makes the heavy burden of his heart lessen even more than the weight of the pouch holding more coin than he’d been receiving every month prior. His smile turns brighter than the sunshine outside that’s been leaving his skin steadily tanner and tanner all week. The stables back in the city were small, the light dingy; taking horses out meant taking them onto the streets shadowed by tall buildings. His freckles had stood out in sharp contrast to his pale skin back then. Now that he’s in the country, getting sun regularly, he looks healthier and feels better than he has since his birth mother left him in his father’s abusive care.

Billy has a little skip in his step as he heads for the door, but the master calls out, “Can you make sure Puck is fed before you leave, Billy?”

“Of course, sir!”

Billy heads for the storeroom first, grabbing a small bale of sweet hay tied with old twine, rough with age, that scrapes at his palm. Billy’s been away from hard labor for long enough that his hands are blistering from the renewed work. It hurts, but it makes him feel accomplished.

When he arrives in the hall holding Puck’s stall, there at the door of it stands none other than the young lord. Steven. He’s got this wide smile on his face and Puck has his head over the door, pressing his muzzle into Steven’s soft touches. It’s very obvious that Puck is fond of Steven, and that affection is returned.

It’s the smile that freezes Billy’s feet right where he stands. Billy sees _dimples_. A sparkle in the big, dark eyes he may or may not have thought about more than once—Okay. Every single day. Every day he came to the stables, Billy had hoped to see this beautiful boy. But until now, he’s only seen Steven at a distance a handful of times.

The bale of sweet hay slips under Billy’s arm from his distraction and he fumbles with it, making a bit of a ruckus as he rights himself. When he glances up, those expressive eyes are locked on him, round with surprise, and his mouth has formed a small ‘o’ shape as well. Billy steadfastly thinks of other things besides how that mouth might look in other places.

“Sorry, my lord,” Billy stutters out, clearing his throat and looking down at his scuffed boots, caked in dirt but no longer as nasty as they’d been his first day when he’d cleaned Puck’s stall. “I was sent by the stable master to feed Puck.”

Steven looks at the hale in his arms and then to Puck, who’s still nuzzling and nibbling softly at Steve’s fingers. His face softened and his shoulders came down from his ears. Billy doesn’t know how he’s supposed to handle this soft, sweet boy who had charmed one of the most difficult horses he’s ever had to work with.

“I brought him another apple,” Steven admits, patting the little bump in his vest.

“You must be careful not to give him too much sugar,” Billy advises, words a little rough with his efforts to try to stifle all of the things he’s feeling. He strides closer because the sooner he’s able to feed Puck, the sooner he can leave and go home and think about how beautiful Steven would look on his knees. Billy swallows down all the impulses rising up within him, and inclines his head a little. “My lord.”

He steps up next to the stall slowly. Puck nickers in greeting, ears up and alert, and swings around to nip at Billy’s ear. Huffing, Billy pats his neck in greeting and cuts his gaze over to Steven when he hears the young lord laughing softly.

And Steven is looking at him. Not through him, the way all the other nobles he’s ever dealt with have. Steven meets his gaze, eyes curved with his amusement.

“He likes you,” Steven remarks, pulling Puck away from where he’s started trying to chew on Billy’s hair.

Billy is not endeared at all. Not one bit. To either of them.

“You think so?” he asks in a soft voice, looking at Puck with wide eyes.

“Yes,” Steven says simply from beside him. “I can tell the difference between when he’s playing and when he’s scared. It’s a fine line.”

Billy strokes his hand over Puck’s neck and nods. “Yeah. Sometimes it can be.” He seems to snap out of whatever daze he’s been in, letting his fingers fall from the short, soft hairs of Puck’s neck to grab the handle of the stall. “I’m sorry, m’lord. I didn’t mean to keep you.”

“You’re doing nothing of the sort,” Steven snaps, and when Billy looks over, his face is pinched in a contrite expression, like he hadn’t meant to speak quite like that. “I apologize. You’re not keeping me at all. Puck is my only friend on this estate, and any friend of his is a friend of mine.”

Billy’s heart lodges somewhere in his throat at such a statement. He knows that Steven means it only as a formality, that the young lord is somehow thankful for Billy’s treatment of his favored pet. He nods and opens the door, shimmying inside and unwinding the bale to drop it in clumps into the feeder on the wall.

When he turns back around, he finds Steven staring at him, lips parted in the kind of way where Billy wants to press his thumb to his mouth. Then, Steve turns his whole body to the side to whip around when he’s caught. A soft flush spread over Steven’s cheeks and Billy’s eyes trail down to Steven’s neck, taking in the cravat tying his collar into place. It only makes Billy want to know just how far down that blush went.

He quickly blinked and got his bearings so as to exit the stall and lock the door firmly behind him.

Nothing good came from his thoughts wandering to dangerous places, and this boy was the most dangerous of all.

“And what if I want to take him out myself?” Steven asks haughtily when he catches Billy locking the stall for the night.

“If you could even get him into his proper tack,” Billy says with a side eye at Steven, who blushes brighter but doesn’t look away, “you’d have a hell of a time getting mounted, sir.”

“M-mounted?” Steve stutters, looking utterly aghast at Billy’s use of words. His fingers toy with the hem of his vest, curling into it and tugging at it helplessly. He’s as bright as a tomato and it shouldn’t be half as attractive as Billy finds it to be.

Billy barely bites back a smile, laughter in his tone, when he says, “Yes, m’lord. _Mounted_.” His grin fights its way to the surface and he flicks his tongue out over his lower lip, then he’s laughing to lessen the effect of his lascivious smile. “He’s been a bit tricky to tame. Won’t let the stable master near him. It’s why I’ve been assigned to his care and training.”

“You?” Steven asks, mouth dropping open in wonder.

Billy has to look away again. This boy is going to be the death of him. Here Billy has been, wanting to see Steven for the last six months, to interact with him, and here he is presented so clearly with how bad of an idea it is to be involved in any way other than at a distance.

“Yes. Me.”

“No wonder he likes you,” Steven murmurs. The way Steven gazes at him makes Billy restless, makes him shift with a shyness he rarely feels. “Will you let me know when he’s ready to ride, William?”

“Of course, m’lord,” Billy tells him with a small smile. He fights back the urge to make a dirty joke, much too used to working around the other stable hands with their crass commentary and roughhousing. He stands back and gives a small bow. “And you may call me Billy, if you wish. Everyone does. But, I must be going now.”

“Wait…” Steven reaches out and stays him with a hand on his upper arm. Billy barely stops himself from flinching, but the touch is so gentle that even Neil’s shadow doesn’t quite reach him. Steven’s hands are pale and they look so soft but firm on the curve of his bicep. Billy stops. He flexes his arm oh-so slightly beneath Steven’s hand, unable to help himself from pressing into that touch. 

Steven inhales sharply, loudly, and drops his hand from Billy’s arm. Billy would regret it if not for the once-over it earns him from the lordling.

“Billy, you say?” Billy looks up and nods slowly. Steven’s eyes curve again. “Then you may call me Steve.”

“Steve?” Billy licks his lips. Oh, this is dangerous. Very, very dangerous. He’s always been weak for the pretty ones. “I don’t know, my lord-”

“Only when no one is around,” Steven assures him, a tentative hand raising back to Billy’s arm. Billy stands up a little straighter at the touch. “Just us. Just when it’s you and me.” Puck whinnies loudly, annoyed at being ignored when he’s done snacking, and they both let out a laugh. “And Puck.”

“Well then,” Billy says, unable to stop the way his lips curl at the edges. He steps back and away from the other man’s touch. “King Steve.” Grinning at the teasing name, waggling his eyebrows, Billy can’t help how his grin only widens when Steve breaks into laughter. Hearing him laugh, _because of something Billy did_ , is like watching the sun break through the clouds. “Until next time. Shall I send word to you through the stable master?”

“No, I’ll be by once a week to check on your progress,” Steve insists and his nose turns up in just the slightest. 

It’s so entitled and prim, like a true nobleman, and Billy finds it endlessly adorable and maddening. It also draws Billy’s eyes to his neck.

Billy’s tongue slides out along his lower lip before he takes another step back, then another. Those two small dots on his neck makes Billy’s teeth ache with the urge to sink them right over those moles.

Instead of doing that, Billy sends the young lord a smile and tells him. “Good evening, Steve.”

The one he receives in return lights him ablaze all the way home, Steve’s soft words lingering the whole way.

“Sweet dreams, Billy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this chapter written since before I posted the first one, and my mental health has been a little wobbly lately so time got away from me and I forgot to post this! I meant to put it up last week.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this next installment in these boys' journey of falling in love. Please consider leaving me a kudo, or a comment to let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently working on chapter 7 of this, but I wanted to post the update for chapter 3 since it’s been sitting in my drafts for like a month now. Please let me know what you think!!

The more Billy works with Puck, with gentle pats and pets, soft brushing of his mane and hair, the more Puck softens to him.

It’s the most gratifying experience to soothe a spooked horse. Work them up to more complex things, get them comfortable in their role. Some horses needed to be broken, but Puck?

Puck is an anomaly. And Billy wouldn’t have him any other way.

He’s not the kind of horse that needs breaking, skittish as he is. He needs gentle coaxing. 

Billy feels more accomplished getting Puck all done up in his best tack and trotting him around a paddock on a lead than he has ever felt in academics when he’d been to school and brought home top marks.

As fall gives way to his first winter working for the Harrington’s stables, Billy gets other chores assigned to him. He becomes responsible for feeding the horses in the morning and evening, and he and one of the other stable hands, Benjamin - a tall, broad, redheaded man with a great, booming laugh and a permanent tan that only emphasizes his blue eyes - take care of rounding the horses up from their paddocks in the early evening.

Billy usually switches off baling and catching hay from the loft, where it stays clean and dry, with Hugh. He’s a dark haired man with dark eyes and a thick, curly beard to match the closely-cropped curls atop his head. Or, Billy will goad Eddie to help muck the stalls Billy gets assigned and half the time Eddie gives in. It’s an easy sort of companionship with his fellow workers.

One afternoon in late summer during his second year at the stables, after Billy’s scrubbed down Puck and has about as much dirty water on him as in the bucket, the master lets them go early since the day had been so hot.

The other stable hands talk about a lake in the woods where they can go for a swim to cool off and give themselves a cursory scrub down before heading home.

He’s been on rotation with Puck for so long that striking up a tentative friendship with the other stable hands has been slow going, but he wants to fit in here in Hawkins. He’d like to have someone with whom to go to the tavern, someone with whom he can joke around or walk to the Harrington estate from town. For all that Billy’s been working hard, he’s hardly socialized since moving to Hawkins past sitting in the tavern with a lukewarm pint in his hands, and visiting Susan’s sister.

So he tags along with the group of stable hands when Hugh extends the invitation. They make their way through the woods, laughing and roughhousing and generally being rowdy with a day’s work behind them and the afternoon free. The forest is dimly lit and grows in thick greenery on all sides of the dirt path. The further they walk, the less sunlight penetrates the thick canopy of leaves above them.

“Do you believe in fairies, Billy?” asks Hugh, who has a good ten years on him and loves to gloat over the fact that he’s the oldest of them, but acts just as childish as the rest of the stable hands. The question comes out of nowhere and Hugh grins roguishly at Billy, who just furrows his eyebrows.

“Yes,” he replies succinctly, eyes darting to take in the dark trees and deep shadows around them. From all the tales his mother told him as a child, Billy had come to fear the fae. “Why? Are there fairies in this forest?”

“Rumor has it,” calls Eddie, who’s a year younger than Billy and the greenest among them, and he waggles his eyebrows at Billy; “that there’s a fairy ring somewhere in these woods.”

“Rumor is the young lord’s a changeling,” continues Benjamin, rounding out their small group. “People in the village say the original heir were taken by the fae and exchanged for one of their own.”

“He’s certainly pretty enough!” Hugh laughs, and the rest of them break into laughter too.

Billy’s comes reluctantly. Because he does, indeed, believe that fairies exist, and Steven _is_ pretty enough to pass as a fae with those big, doe eyes and the air about him that always seems to distract Billy. Hypnotize him.

Enchant him.

Being in these woods makes him a little nervous. Maybe it’s simply the darkness around him, or the rumors, or his proximity to the other men with the rumors swirling through his muddled mind. Billy knows the lower classes make up all kinds of stories about the gentry—that the class tension breeds discontent, breeds rumors and slander. But there’s something to the tales of fairies, something about their magic that makes Billy’s skin prickle. Of course he believes in fairies.

Perhaps when he goes to church on Sunday, instead of focusing on Steve’s cherubic face, he should seek forgiveness from God.

...Perhaps. But more than likely, whilst the priest prattles on about piety and forgiveness, Billy will continue to memorize every inch of Steven’s face he sees from his place low in the pews. Gazing up at the riser where Steve sat, straight-backed and done up in his Sunday’s best, Billy swears he’s looking at a creation designed by the hand of the divine.

There’s heaven in those eyes each time they flick his way and lock for a long, extended moment before Billy or Steve or both of them break away from the heated glance, flustered.

“You shouldn’t speak of the masters that way,” Eddie chides the others, cutting through Billy’s thoughts, but he’s laughing too.

“The young lord isn’t so bad,” Billy offers, pushing a branch out of the way for Benjamin who nods his thanks.

“He’s a brat!” Hugh’s laughter grows louder. Benjamin chuckles deeply behind him. “Parading around the house like he’s our master already just ‘cause his father’s away in the city again. It’s no wonder his engagement fell through with how he acts.”

“Engagement?” Billy frowns. Steven was engaged?

“Aye, engaged to the young Miss Wheeler until she eloped with an artist,” Benjamin tells him. He shrugs his broad shoulders. “She were in love with the artist boy, but her family made the match with the Harringtons. Were a right shame when she left for Paris. Big scandal, that. The lordling might be a brat, but no one deserves a broken heart.”

“But she was in love with the artist?” Billy asks, face pinched in confusion.

Benjamin sighs and turns a somber gaze upon Billy, replying, “The young master were in love with her. Gutted, he were, when word got out.”

That fact kind of makes him sad.

Before he can say anything else, a clearing finally opens up and sunlight sparkles off the subtle waves of the dark water of the lake. The men all start to strip down to their skin, tunics and trousers and belts and undergarments and boots being shed in favor of a dip in the blissfully cool water of the dark lake to soothe the toil of the day. Billy hangs back, folding his clothes neatly because some habits Neil instilled were harder to break. Had started earlier and lasted longer.

The boys run off ahead of him, whooping and hollering as they wade through the shallows to the deeper part of the lake and Billy is quick to follow them. He ducks his head under the water and comes back up, shaking his wet locks and getting everyone in the face with water as a bright laugh bubbles out of his mouth.

“First one to the dock bails the hay tomorrow!” Billy shouts, racing towards the short dock on the far side of the lake.

Despite being raised in the city, the blonde is a strong swimmer, stronger than these land-locked men. Billy spent the summers of his youth on the coast with his mother’s family. He’d spend days on the beach, frolicking through the salt water with the careless joy of youth, getting sand everywhere, and swimming every day. Billy remembers the stories his grandfather used to tell, and he remembers the timbre of his voice with each tale he wove. He remembers the smell of his grandmother’s skirts when he’d hug her. The scent of wool and freshly baked bread is a source of comfort for him to this day.

Billy hadn’t seen his mother’s side of the family since Fiona Hargrove left one evening without a trace, with no note nor word left with his grandparents.

Neil had made sure he never saw them again.

Billy uses the vague memory of his grandmother’s smile to push harder, and he hauls himself atop the dock with great, heaving breaths. The boys are still struggling, Benjamin surprisingly struggling the most, and so Billy takes a moment to breathe.

Lungs burning, he turns his eyes skyward and places his hands on his hips as he tries not to double over, taking several steps forward. It helps him calm his heart pounding in his chest, even just a little. Hanging his head back, Billy puts the length of his body on display.

He’s brought down from the sky with the soft sound of a gasp from somewhere near the tree line. When Billy’s eyes dart down, he meets the stunned face of the young lord who’s been haunting his thoughts.

Steven is half-hidden behind a thick tree, just his head poking out. There’s some wisps of hair framing his face, making him appear windblown and utterly beautiful. He looks like he’s appeared out of thin air. 

“Hey pretty boy.”

“William,” Steven hisses, looking over his shoulder before dropping behind the tree until just his eyes and the very top of his head can be seen out. “You’re not supposed to be- what are you-”

“Never heard of skinny dipping, m’lord?” Billy shakes his hair out over his shoulders, rivulets of water dripping down over his body.

Steven’s eyes drop down to trace a droplet that falls at the very base of his throat. Traces it down his chest and stomach until it settles in the hair nestled at the base of Billy’s cock. Billy watches Steven lick his lips and can’t help how he flexes his body in response, his muscles tightening up to show off his physique. Billy’s really proud of his body, after all. He’s been working hard at the stables, comes home sore every day, finds work easier every day too. He’s got calluses back on his hands. His chest has become more defined with his work, arms a little bulkier.

All the easier to pin Steven right to that tree.

He revels in the way Steven gasps and looks up at Billy with his mouth dropped open.

The boy looks aroused with how pink his skin turns, first his cheeks and then down his neck again to hide in the collar of his shirt. Again. Billy would give almost anything to untie that cravat and part the opening so he could see the column of Steven’s neck. The young lord looks eager from how he’s leaning out from behind the tree just to get a better view of Billy’s body.

Tongue tracing over his bottom lip, Billy grins devilishly at the other young man, something playful and sharp, and winks at the lordling.

“It’s swimming in just your skin. No fancy bathing costumes, no undergarments. Just you and the water.” He draws his lip into his mouth with his tongue and bites down on it. “You should try it sometime.”

Steven goes even redder right to the tips of his ears and he whips behind the tree to hide completely from view.

Billy is pleased with himself. When he turns back to the dock, Eddie, Hugh, and Benjamin have finally arrived.

“Well, ladies,” Billy calls out, his smug smile growing twofold for not only beating his comrades to the dock but also for catching Steve looking. For teasing him. Getting him to go pink like that. “Looks like I’ve won!”

“How did you even get here that fast?!”

“You cheated, Bill, own up!”

“It’s not my fault you lot are slow! It’s why the stable master favors me when I’ve only been here a handful of months.”

“No, that’s because the young lord favors you,” Eddie jeers, swiping wet, pale blonde hair out of green eyes. He’s not but a year younger than Billy but has that eternal youthfulness that makes him look barely old enough to work. “I don’t blame him. You’ve got a way with his horse.”

“Oh, you think so?” Billy looks over his shoulder subtly and his smirk deepens when dark hair flashes behind that very same tree. “Puck’s not so bad.”

“Puck’s a nightmare,” Benjamin groans where he’s hauled himself up onto the end of the dock, feet dangling in the water. “You’re the only one he lets in his stall let alone near him.”

“He bit my finger last week when I tried to pet him,” Hugh calls out helpfully, fingers idly grooming his beard as he hung from the edge of the dock.

“And stole an apple right out of my hands yesterday!” Eddie adds, affronted. 

A stifled giggle from behind the tree barely made it to Billy’s ears at the very start of the dock, let alone the ears of his companions at the end. Billy can’t help the twist of his own lips because he knows exactly why Puck stole that apple.

Steven spoils that horse so much.

“He’s a bit of a brat, I’ll admit that,” Billy laughs, licking his lips. “But he’s good, under that. I can tell there’s more to him. More he’s capable of.”

 _A lot like Steven,_ Billy thinks in passing, but his mind latches onto it.

It’s not as though Billy has had more than a handful of meetings with Steven about Puck, but the brunette is skittish, flighty, showing up at random and only at the end of the very beginning of the day, before the other stable hands have arrived.

The last time he’d shown up, Eddie had somehow arrived early even though he never does. Steven had stuttered through a question about how ready Puck was to be ridden. Billy just smirked and ran him through every update he could think of.

“Yeah, and you’ve been making good progress with him,” Hugh tells him with a smile. Billy feels the warm flush of pride at the praise. “Honestly. I haven’t seen anyone as good with horses as you are, Bill.”

Billy shrugs shyly then scrunches his face up. “I’ve a gift! What can I say?”

Then he ran down the dock and jumped over Benjamin’s head to splash into the water heavily, a large wave rising up and splashing over all three of the other stable hands. Billy comes up laughing while the other guys start to come after him, and as he’s grinning he sees Steven’s figure half-hidden by the tree, lower lip bitten between his teeth.

He dunks Eddie when they’re almost to shore when the boy tries to turn around and potentially spot the young lord.

Favored by Steven Harrington is certainly the place Billy wants to stay.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesterday was my birthday, and my good friend [@opal_draws](https://twitter.com/opal_draws/) / [opaldraws](https://opaldraws.tumblr.com/) made some AMAZING fanart for this fic and I am OBSESSED!!!! You can find it [HERE](https://twitter.com/opal_draws/status/1352299292657127424?s=21) on twitter or [HERE](https://opaldraws.tumblr.com/post/640940696173445120/its-rvspberryjvm-s-birthday-happy-birthday) on tumblr! What an awesome birthday present, right???
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this new chapter!!

It’s halfway into the harvest season and Billy’s gotten roped the last couple of days into transporting newly bundled hay from the lower field back to the barn on top of his usual duties, which means his attention to Puck has lagged a little.

This morning, he’d come in even earlier to spend time with the obstinate horse, having been woken in the night by terrifying dreams of Neil haunting his shadow here as much as back in the city. Imagined the angry person he would be, less playful and more cruel. He’d been well on his way to becoming a mirror’s image of his father before Neil died.

Now, living in Hawkins with Susan and Max, his little family, Billy feels like he’s softened. Not completely, he won’t ever soften completely, but enough that he smiles readily, teases Max and the other stable hands. Has a special eye for Steven Harrington. He’s found a little niche in which he feels comfortable - he’s needed, and important, and more than that people like having him around. It’s such a different experience being the Billy beyond his father’s iron fist of discipline.

Billy lets himself into the stables and plods down the hall towards the stall he knows so well. There’s hardly any light out, the whole world still bathed in the barest blue, and when he rounds the corner, there stands Steven.

He has his forehead pressed gently to Buck’s long face, the horse’s eyes shut in contentment. The pale light slashes across Steven’s face and Billy is struck once again with the young man’s beauty. His grace. The way Steven is with this horse, a horse who’s still difficult even on his best days, makes something warm spread through Billy’s stomach. Something fond. The sight of him in the soft blue light is ethereal like nothing else Billy’s ever experienced.

Steven opens his eyes and looks right at Billy, both of them taking a deep breath as their gazes meet. He looks sleep-soft and dressed hurriedly, the cravat around his neck tied loose enough that his shirt parts, collar wide, and it hits him right in the gut when Billy catches sight of Steven’s bare throat.

Dangerous. Enchanting. Beautiful.

“William,” he greets quietly, his hands coming up to rub his palms over Puck’s head. The horse butts his head against Steven’s hands, nuzzling against Steve’s palm. Steven smiles, and the warm he’d felt in his stomach spread wider. Deeper. Threads up into his chest and close to his heart. He feels the flutter of emotion flapping furious wings in his stomach. “I was hoping to see you.”

“M’lord,” Billy greets with a small bow of his head.

He can’t help the small twitching of his lips as he recalled the last time he had seen Steven. Teased him, flirted just a little and in such a way that he could pass it off as taunting.

Insubordination is sights better than being accused of acting untoward with another man. With a member of the gentry, no less.

“I thought I told you to call me Steven,” the lordling reminds him. Billy grins and ducks his head at the admonishment and the haughty tone of voice. “The… other day. At the lake.”

It’s been two months since Billy went swimming in the late summer. _The other day._ His lips twitch in amusement.

“Yes? What about it?”

Steven clears his throat and gives Puck one last pat before he steps back from the stall and turns to face Billy. His hair isn’t tied back with ribbon like it normally is, and so it falls on either side of his face in thick waves. Steven is so utterly gorgeous standing there, close enough that all it would take is a few strides forward and Billy could touch him. Curl his fingers around Steven’s wrist. Tuck some of that loose hair behind his ears and feel how silky he knows those brunette locks would be.

Billy tries to swallow down his desire.

“It’s just… I wasn’t trying to spy on you,” Steven stutters, pink rising to his cheeks in an adorable flush. “I go to the lake sometimes to put my feet in the water, and then you all showed up, splashing and- and naked!”

“You noticed that, did you?” Billy teases, eyes sparkling with mischief as he traces his bottom lip with his tongue. “Did you ever get around to going by yourself, pretty boy?”

The blush grows redder, but Steven defiantly keeps his gaze locked with Billy’s and sets his mouth into a stubborn pout. Billy’s grin widens.

“You did, didn’t you?” Billy’s traces trail down Steven’s body, then back up to his face, and Steven’s visible reaction makes desire start to sing in his veins. “Did you sneak down at night, all by yourself?” Billy tilts his head back, but doesn’t look away from Steve, imagining it in his mind’s eye. “Just you, the water, and the moonlight?”

Steven looks away, only to cut his dark, wide-eyed gaze back to Billy when the blonde takes a slow, tentative step forward. Billy raises his hands carefully, like one would with a spooked horse.

“Just curious, pretty boy,” he says, lowering his hands and taking another step forward.

“Do you… think about things like that?”

Steven’s biting at his lower lip as he says it, and Billy tilts his head to the side.

“Like what?”

“Like me,” Steven whispers, cheeks bright with embarrassment, but his big eyes don’t avoid Billy as he says it.

And it’s Billy’s turn to blush. Because of course he does—thinks about Steven more often than he’d care to admit to. He thinks about Steven on his walks to the Harrington estate in the morning and on his way home. He thinks about him during work, and in the evening when he’s alone in his bed.

He stifles a cough against his fist and looks to the side to avoid Steven’s curious eyes.

“I think quite highly of you,” Billy responds, completely evading the question. He licks his lips and watches Steven’s eyes flit down to his mouth before he inhales slowly. “Steven.”

The smile that curls over Steven’s lips is warm and welcoming, like sunlight coming through storm clouds on a summer day. Billy feels his insides twist with desire. With longing.

“So you do think of me,” Steven says, and his smile turns smug. He looks so pleased with himself and all Billy can do is gaze back stupidly. “I’m quite happy to hear that.”

“Why do you say that, m’lord?”

The sharp look the young lord levels at him is enough to make Billy laugh and hold his hands up apologetically. 

“Steven. Sorry.”

Steven smiles and shrugs a shoulder. A lock of hair falls into his face and, against his better judgment, Billy reaches out to tuck the hair behind Steven’s ear with a gentle, smooth motion. He lets his fingers linger along the silky strands, marveling at how soft Steven’s dark hair is, and then his hand falls away shyly.

Billy’s embarrassed that he couldn’t control himself, that he’d given into the same kind of impulse that he’s been actively stamping down within him. 

“I say it because,” Steven starts, looking down at his hands as he wrings them in front of his body, and then he glances at Billy from beneath his eyelashes, head dropped low. “Because I think of you, too.”

It’s like the words have the power to fan a fire the likes of which could only be found in his heart. Billy’s breath catches in his chest at the sensation.

_Very dangerous._

“You do?” Billy asks him, a little breathless with wonder. That this young man thinks of him too is more than Billy could ever hope for. He raises an eyebrow, trying to figure out how to phrase the next bit. “How do you think of me, Steven?”

“In high regard,” Steven replies, mimicking Billy’s reply.

“No, I mean-” Billy grins a little roguishly, and takes a step forward. Steven takes a step back, pressed up against the wall next to Puck’s stall. Billy raises his arms and braces his hands on either side of Steven’s head. He drops in close, their bodies not quite touching, but his lips skim over the shell of Steven’s ear as he whispers, “Do you think of me at the lake, Steven?”

The sharp intake of breath in his ear ripples through Billy’s body like a wave of warm self-satisfaction. Billy’s eyes close and he lets his lips brush across Steven’s earlobe.

“I think about you,” Billy confesses and he’s glad for their closeness that he can hide the flush on his own face. “Very often, Steven, I think about you looking at me at the lake. I liked that. Did you like that?”

Steven’s head slowly bobs next to his, their hair brushing together as he nods in reply to the question.

“Good, that’s good,” Billy breathes out, licking his lips and unintentionally touching the very tip of his tongue to Steven’s ear, and the brunette shudders in response.

Billy feels Steven’s fingers curling at the very bottom of his tunic. He wants to feel Steven’s hands on his skin, wants to put his hands and lips everywhere on Steven’s body that he can.

“Would you like to see that again?” Billy continues, voice so soft like they’re in a world of their own, a bubble created by their closeness and their quiet. “Would you like to see _me_ again, Steven?”

He feels the shaky inhale of Steven’s chest as it brushes against his own, and Billy wants. He wants so badly, wants so many things from this beautiful man in front of him. 

“Yes,” comes Steven’s whispered reply, the word falling out of his perfect mouth and right into Billy’s ear. It makes him shiver, too. “Yes, William, I’d like that.”

Billy inhales and tries to keep his breathing under control, fighting back the urge to pant needily into Steven’s ear.

“I’d like that too, sweet thing,” Billy agrees, and takes that final step forward so that the front of their bodies are pressed together from chest to hip. “And call me Billy.”

“Billy,” Steve says in a voice just shy of a moan.

Billy has to bite into his lower lip to keep himself from thrusting forward. He’s not even hard yet, barely thickening in his trousers, but he _wants_.

Wants to hear that voice as Steven breaks apart below him.

“Will you meet me tomorrow morning?” Billy asks impulsively. It’s so obvious that they both feel the same about each other. Billy’s been so careful trying to hide what he wants, but if Steven wants him too… if his desire is not unrequited… “Behind the stables, next to the tree. We can be alone there.”

Steven’s fingers tug lightly at the edge of Billy’s tunic and he nods again, turning his face towards Billy’s. Their cheeks brush, perhaps in the gentlest touch Billy’s ever felt in a life filled with violence and neglect.

“Tomorrow morning,” Steven repeats. “Behind the stables.”

“That’s right,” Billy affirms, swallowing thickly.

He wants to drag Steven back there now, but he can see the pale morning light becomes brighter around them. The stable master will arrive soon, and they can’t afford to get caught out like this, neither of them. At best, Billy would have to leave Hawkins and head for somewhere else far from here. At worst, he’d be put in jail. Perhaps even hanged for an offense against nature itself.

Billy ducks his head and presses a soft kiss to the hinge of Steven’s jaw, the barest press of his lips to that spot of skin that he thinks about when he stares up at Steven in church. The way it catches the light when he clenches his jaw, or the curve of it when he smiles.

It’s as soft as he’d imagined it being.

Tempting himself with Steven is dangerous, but Billy can tell already that it’ll be worth it.

“Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow.” Steven turns his face this time and kisses Billy’s cheek, which turns red at the boldness of Steven’s actions. “Good day to you, Billy.”

Steven slips from under Billy’s body and steps around him, straightening up to his full height. Even with his hair awry and his clothes rumpled, even with the flush on his cheeks, Steven looks every inch the aristocrat he is. And Billy kind of loves it.

There’s an adoration there that Billy hasn’t felt with anyone, much less someone in a superior class. But with Steven, it’s different. Everything with Steven is different.

Billy turns around against the wall, hands pressed firm and fingers splayed, and he catches sight of Steven lingering in the entrance closest to the manor at their end of the hall. 

Caught in a patch of sunlight, Steven’s pale skin seems to glow and Billy can’t help the way his heart stops. Because he looks so stunning, smiling back at Billy, hair fanned out around his shoulders like a dark curtain of silk. It hits Billy right in the gut that someone so beautiful wants him, too.

Between one blink and the next, Steven is gone and Billy is left alone in the stables.

He stands there frozen for a long moment before something tugs at his hair, and when Billy’s brain comes back into focus, he scoffs and shoves a hand in Puck’s face.

“You cheeky horse,” Billy scolds, but even so, he can’t keep the fondness out of his voice. He rubs Puck’s muzzle gently, regarding the pale stallion with ocean-blue eyes, and Billy smiles. There’s a brightness in his chest that he can’t describe as anything other than joy. “Think you can put in a good word for me with your owner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think!! Any theories or guesses on what's going to happen in the next chapter? ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 5! I hope you enjoy. ;)

Billy wills himself awake when it’s still dark out, heart already beating fast in his chest.

He’s meeting Steven today behind the stables. 

Yesterday, Billy had worked hard and been in the best of spirits; the other stable hands asked if he’d managed to dip his wick under some skirts, but Billy just laughed in their faces. They would never be able to wrap their heads around the truth. Then he spent the morning with Puck and stayed late to finish his other duties.

Puck is very nearly ready to be ridden, though he’d have to gain the stable master’s approval for that, and Billy has been hoping to surprise Steven with the progress he’s made.

Their encounter lingered with him all day. If he came home late last night, collapsed into bed after dinner, and waited for Max’s soft snores to sound through the wall before thinking about how it had felt to have Steven’s body pressed up against him, well… no one else was around to know.

Billy dresses hurriedly that morning with fidgeting fingers and a heart filled with excitement. There’s a spring in his step as he takes the stairs two at a time and lets himself outside. Not even the chickens have yet to stir. Everything around him is quiet and dark and asleep, and Billy almost feels like he’s still in a dream. 

Must be dreaming if he truly thinks he’s about to go meet the young lord of the manor behind the stables.

Oh, but the thought of kissing him makes Billy ache all over. His chest seizes up with longing, his stomach and gut warming with desire. Their bodies had been so close yesterday that Billy can still remember the heat of Steven’s body against his own.

It was exquisite.

Walking in the dark is not Billy’s favorite activity, but if he wants to arrive at the stables at a reasonable enough time to meet Steven, to indulge in this… whatever it is, exactly, that sparks in the space between them, he must make ample time to do so. And his mind wanders to the same places it had the night before.

Billy’s only known a handful of people, biblically speaking. There’d been Mary, who’d let him put his hands up her skirt. Elizabeth had been the first to touch him. Henrietta had been his first time laying with someone; she was one year older than Billy and liked to arm wrestle in the seedier taverns. She would win almost every time, even against the men.

Then there was David, the first boy Billy had ever lain with. 

It had been dark then, too, but late in the night, caught between alleyways so quiet that the soft sound of their lips meeting echoed loudly in Billy’s ears. David’s hands had been cold and rough where they snuck up under his tunic and spread across Billy’s stomach. He tasted like sour ale and smoke, and it had been better than any kiss he’d had with a girl. David taught him many things while he lived in that part of the city, and it had been unlike anything else Billy could describe. In the moment, everything with David had felt so right that he refused to say it could be wrong.

Going to church on Sundays is not always easy for Billy, knowing this about himself. People could often look aside for the dalliances of youth between boys and girls, as long as pregnancy was not an outcome.

Not even God would excuse Billy for his feelings, let alone his actions, towards men.

He trips on a stone and snaps from his thoughts with a sudden start, catching his balance with both arms out and his heart thumping painfully in his chest from the fright. He’s only a few minutes from the Harrington estate and the stables, so he quickens his pace with a renewed vigor. There’s a cool nip in the early morning air, to be expected with autumn in bloom around them, but Billy doesn’t feel it with the way his blood rushes through his veins.

He keeps his footfalls light as he takes the path up to the stables and slips around back. Billy doesn’t spot Steven and the hope in his chest dulls a little.

There’s a slight pang in his chest at the thought that Steven may not actually meet him today. Perhaps he grew scared of the idea, or had spoken with the stable master to get Billy thrown out. As the minutes ticked by, the blonde began to fidget. What if what Billy presumed to be flirting had been taken as sinful behavior? What if he’s run out of town?

It strikes him that he might be going to jail today. Twists his stomach with dread. He’d not only besmirch his own name, but Susan’s and Max’s as well. They’d be stained with his misdeeds, would have to seek out a new home just the same as him, and Billy knows they’d want a separate home from him after that.

 _The Hargrove men know nothing if not how to hurt the Mayfield women the most,_ Billy thinks bitterly to himself.

He’s brought out of the spiral of his mind by the sound of a twig snapping nearby and his head jolts up to look around. There, coming around the corner of the building with slow footsteps, is Steven.

His heart seems to trip and stumble in his chest, painful and longing all at once, at first sight of him.

Steven looks like he’s taken care of his clothes this morning in a stark contrast to yesterday’s disheveled state. He’s in an elaborately embroidered red vest with matching dark red ribbon tying back perfectly styled hair away from Steven’s face. The trousers he’s wearing are obviously expensive with how they’re tailored to Steven’s long, slender legs. Upon his throat, he’s tied a dark red cravat. The flare of Steve’s sleeves around his wrists makes Billy want to clutch them, curl his fingers around to see if they would fit. He wants to know if they’re slim like the rest of Steven’s body, or if they’re wide in the same way his shoulders are.

The lordling looks over his shoulder as if hiding from someone and trying to see if they’ve followed, but once Steven’s gaze turns forward, Billy is frozen again, suddenly and sharply, with just how striking an image Steven presents.

There’s this goofy little smile on his face when he finally spots Billy. It’s something pleased and shy all at once, and it hits him right in the stomach with how much he wants the young lord.

“Billy! You’re here.” Steven’s voice is a little breathless, like he ran here, or like he’s relieved to see that Billy had kept to his word. Maybe even both. The young lord tugs at the hem of his vest, picking at the threads keeping the edge hemmed, before glancing to Billy again.

“Worried I wasn’t going to show, pretty boy?” Billy asks quietly as he slowly stalks towards the other man.

Steven stills as if spooked, as if he’s about to turn tail and flee. His eyes go wide and track the movement of Billy’s hand stretching towards him.

Billy does what he’s been thinking about and wraps his thick fingers around Steven’s wrist, lets his work-roughened thumb brush the soft, smooth, pale inside of Steven’s wrist, right over his pulse. Steven’s skin feels how Billy imagines silk does. 

They both let out a quiet gasp at the sensation.

Billy casts his eyes around for somewhere more private and spots a thick-trunked tree bracketed on one side by empty wood pallets and on the other by a high fence.

“Come with me,” Billy whispers.

He slides them down the back wall and ducks past the pallets. Letting go of Steven’s wrist, he instead reaches back carefully to place a hand atop Steven’s head to keep him from knocking it against the tree limb. With both of them wedged into this private little spot Billy’s discovered, they take a moment to regard each other.

Steven leans back against the stone wall of the stables, chin ducked down towards his chest. But those big, round eyes shine in the low, creeping light, dark blue all around them, and Billy’s body is too small for the way his want overwhelms him. Steven looks a perfect picture with his palms flat on the wall; if Billy were an artist, he’d have sketched it then and there. As usual, a few strands of hair escape the tail Steven’s tied behind his head.

They’re alone now. Just Billy and Steve, and the mountain of opportunity between them.

Billy reaches out to brush the hair away from the young lord’s face and he cups Steven’s jaw in his hand. Thumb sweeping over the curve of Steven’s cheek, Billy gazes into the eyes he’s become so fond of.

“I should tell you,” Steven begins, “that as you allow me to call you Billy, I wish for you to call me Steve.”

“And I should tell you…” Billy’s as quiet as the world around them is dark. “...I think of you very often. And now that I have you here, all I want is to kiss you, Steve.”

Steve licks his lips and breathes in shallowly.

“I want to kiss you, too,” he admits, and slants his eyes to the side to avoid Billy’s gaze upon him. His cheeks grow steadily warmer. “But… I don’t have much experience.”

“Not even kissing?”

“Only in kissing, to be honest,” Steve says, face growing even redder at the admission. “My first kiss was with my- my ex-fiancée.”

Billy’s reply is nothing—just silence. Despite having learned about Steve’s failed engagement from the other stable hands, he waits for Steve to speak more on it because it seems like something the other man wants to talk about. And Billy would rather hear things about Steve straight from his pretty mouth.

“Only a few times, when our chaperone wasn’t paying attention,” Steve continues, and Billy can barely see him but can tell from how hot his cheeks are that he’s blushing bright red beneath Billy’s hand. “I tried to use my tongue with her and she didn’t like it very much.”

“Did you like it?” Billy knows his voice is pitched low and interested, having a vested interest in Steve’s honest reply.

“Y-yes,” comes the stilted response, embarrassment tinging Steve’s words. “I did like it. Very much so.”

“That's good. I’m glad you liked it. Thank you for telling me,” Billy says honestly. He takes a step forward, closing the space between their bodies. “Would you like to kiss me?”

“I already told you,” Steve hisses, turning his head away from Billy’s hand. “Don’t make me say it again.”

_What an absolute brat._

Billy shivers, because he quite likes the bossy, demanding side of Steve. It’s like his aristocratic side surfaces just to snipe at Billy. The blonde is helpless to react in any other way than the warmth that curls through his gut, the smile that spread over his face that’s half-manic and half-pleased. 

“Maybe I want to hear you say it again,” Billy says, tongue flicking out over his lips. He cups Steve’s chin and drags his face back towards him. “Can’t quite believe someone as good as you wants to kiss someone like m-”

Steve’s lips cut him off mid-sentence. 

And it’s as if the moment that their lips touch, the world slows down around Billy. All thought ceases and he melts into the kiss, moving his mouth gently against Steve’s. He can hear nothing but the rushing of blood through his ears and his heart pounding hard in his chest. He feels nothing but the warm weight of Steve’s body, the softness of his lips, the hands that grip tightly at Billy’s forearms.

Billy’s hand slips from Steve’s chin to pillow the back of his head as Billy presses him back to the wall once more. Like the morning prior, their bodies are flush together from shoulder to hip, but this time it’s even better because he’s got his lips on this beautiful boy’s like he’s been dreaming of since he first laid eyes on him.

And he’s got Steve’s hands in his hair, making Billy groan into his mouth at the sensation, “ _Steve…_ ”

Steve gasps, and Billy takes that moment to lick into his mouth, past his pouty lips, and eagerly swallows the moan that falls from Steve’s mouth. It’s heady. Steve himself is heady, already an addiction stronger than any liquor or opium. Tasted like apples, which makes Billy smile gently into the kiss.

“What’s so funny?” Steve huffs, tugging sharply at Billy’s hair.

The blonde hisses and pulls away to give Steve a dark look.

“Don’t pull my hair like that,” he tells Steve, and there’s a seriousness to his tone that brooks no arguments. Steve quickly pulls his hand away and bites his lower lip.

“Billy, I’m sorry-”

“I wasn’t laughing,” Billy interrupts him, the hand behind Steve’s head falling so he could press a hand on either side of Steve’s trim hips. “You taste like apples. I liked it.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s words are faint as he licks his lips slowly. Gazes down at Billy with anticipation in his eyes. “Would you like another taste?”

Billy would very much like another taste. And so he takes one.

He kisses Steve again, works Steve’s mouth open with his lips and darts his tongue out to tease inside. He licks along Steve’s teeth and sucks lightly on his tongue, pulling another startled moan from his throat. Billy can’t help the way he groans, too, at the slick slide of their mouths coming together. When Steve’s tongue tentatively touches his own, Billy swears he’s sent straight to heaven.

Billy’s fingers grip Steve’s hips tighter, thumbs pressing and rubbing against the curve of the bones beneath his pale skin. If only there weren’t so many layers between them... He can barely keep himself from imagining what Steve’s body looks like beneath his clothes. Imagines how Steve looked, bare and beautiful as he snuck to the lake. Imagines the little moles that would undoubtedly mark his skin in constellations Billy wants to map with his tongue and teeth.

As Steve scrapes his nails lightly over Billy’s scalp, the blonde lets out a little whimper and presses back into the touch, then he surges forward to devour Steve’s mouth. Nips and nibbles at his lips, sucks on his tongue, He pulls back and licks at Steve’s mouth, teasing him when Steve’s tongue darts out to meet his only to pull back. Steve chases after his mouth, fingers tightening in Billy’s hair until Billy groans and gives him another long, deep kiss.

When he breaks away, he kisses over Steve’s cheek towards his ear. He breathes hotly over it, relishing the moan it brings from Steve’s lips. Billy has to take a steadying breath before he murmurs, “Can I kiss your neck?”

“Yes, I- why are you even asking?”

“Because I want you to want it,” Billy replies. His voice goes quiet, and husky, and he slots his leg between both of Steve’s. “I want you to want me. And I only want to do things that you want to do, too.” Billy nips lightly at Steve’s ear while his hand moves up Steve’s arm to rest at the base of his throat, toying with the knot of his dark red cravat. “Is this okay, Steve?”

“Yes, so good,” Steve husks out, mouth parted and panting needily. He slides his fingers through Billy’s hair and cups the back of his neck as Steve tilts his head back. “I want you to kiss me _everywhere_ , Billy.”

Billy’s hold, Steve’s cravat in one hand and his hip in the other, tightens for a brief moment. The thought of kissing down Steve’s chest, his stomach, kissing the soft curve of his ankle bone before kissing up to his knee, his thighs-

Billy shakes his head to gain his bearings again and tugs roughly at the cravat until it loosens and falls away. It’s as soft as Steve’s skin. Holding it in his hand, Billy doesn’t know whether to bring it to his nose to take a deep breath of Steve’s scent or whether he should hand it to Steve.

The brunette makes the decision for him.

“Keep it,” Steve says, flushing bright red. “It’s made out of real silk.” He licks his lips when Billy looks down at the fabric so soft and smooth between his fingers. “Keep it… to remember me by.”

“As if I could forget you, you sweet thing,” Billy whispers.

He lets go of Steve’s hip to fold it as neatly as he folds anything and slides it into his pocket. Then, he looks at Steve. Collar parted, red-faced, mouth red and wet and swollen from kisses. His eyes are dark and half-lidded. Billy wishes again for artistic abilities, for if he could paint him, looking like this? Looking this good? Billy would be content for the rest of eternity. 

Billy licks his lips. “If you need me to stop, you tell me.”

Steve bites at his lower lip until Billy reaches up and teases it out from between his teeth with smooth rubs of his thumb.

“I mean it,” Billy whispers, ducking in to press a softer, sweeter kiss to Steve’s lips. “I only want to give you what you want.”

Steve inhales with a shiver and tilts his head to the side to show off the pale length of his neck. And Billy looks his fill, commits the sight of him to memory, just in case he isn’t actually asleep and this isn’t all a dream.

There are two moles on the side of his neck, and Billy won’t wait long to press a tiny kiss on either one.

But first, Billy presses his lips to the soft patch of skin right beneath Steve’s ear. Once, twice, before moving down barely half an inch to press another kiss just north of those spots he wants to claim for himself.

His ears are keen on every hitch of Steve’s breath, every pant and shaky moan and gasp Steve tried to hide behind his teeth digging into his lower lip.

“I wish I could get you alone,” Billy confesses, darting his tongue out to tease over the two marks, tasting them, and he finishes with a soft, sucking kiss.

Steve shivers immediately and bites back a moan, his arms flying out to wrap around Billy’s shoulders as his knees go weak. But Billy is quick to catch him with his own arms curled around Steve’s waist. It brings their bodies close together, Steve’s hips pressing into his upper thigh. Steve’s growing slowly hard beneath his trousers, and Billy fights back to urge to tear said trousers down to get his hand and mouth on Steve.

But oh, how he _wants_.

Billy turns his head towards Steve’s ear, whispering, “Wish you could make all the noises you’re holding back. I want so badly to hear how much you like it. Do you like it, sweet thing?”

Steve lets out a soft groan, the first proper noise all night, then slaps a hand over his mouth. The damage is already done; from Steve’s lips to Billy’s ears, Billy too feels himself start to thicken in kind. And it doesn’t stop Billy from grinning. In fact, he has to grin wider when he scrapes his teeth over the soft cord of Steve's neck and the young lord cants his cock against Billy’s leg.

Billy draws back when Steve shrinks away and frowns at the brunette. The pale morning, slow to come as the days grew shorter, cast Steve in the softest glow that made Billy's breath catch in his throat. He reaches for the lordling’s hips, leans in until their mouths are just barely brushing, and slowly, carefully, leads him in rolling against Billy’s thigh again. 

Steve gasps against his mouth and Billy does it again, and then sucks at his lower lip when he brings Steve’s hips back in for a third time. Billy knows assuredly that a young man like Steve has touched himself before, but he also knows the touch of another is always ten times as heady.

The fourth time, though, Billy doesn’t even have to urge him; Steve rolls his hips on his own, mouth hanging open and tongue sliding out over Billy’s lips. The blonde crushes their mouths together and slides his hands around to the small of Steve’s back. His thumbs rub tiny circles in the dimples there, teasing so close to Steve’s ass and yet too far away for Billy’s liking.

When their mouths break away for much needed air, Billy buries his face back into Steve’s neck. With each press of his hips to Billy’s strong, thick thigh, Steve lets out these soft grunts and breathy exhales. Noises that make Billy suck a little harder at Steve’s skin, nip a little sharper at the curve of his collarbone. Steve is shaking against him, holding himself back.

So Billy’s hands fan out until just the very tips of his fingers splay out over the top of Steve’s ass. He urges him to go faster with tiny pulls, starts to press his thigh into the motions until Steve is gasping his name.

“Billy, Billy…!”

“Let go for me,” Billy coaxes, tongue flicking at the hinge of Steve’s jaw before tracing his tongue back down to the two marks. He sucks again and Steve lets out a soft curse. “Let me feel you come apart for me, Stevie.”

Steve bites down into Billy’s shoulder when he does cum, quaking in Billy’s arms, hips seeking that friction for a few haphazard thrusts before he sinks bonelessly into Billy’s embrace. Billy holds him there against the wall, wrapped up tightly in the quiet of early morning. As Steve’s harsh pants in his ear start to settle, the brunette turns his face to nuzzle his nose affectionately into Billy’s cheek.

It’s endearing and intimate and Billy resolutely ignores the swooping sensation in his stomach.

“Did that feel good?” Billy whispers, pulling back so he can look at Steve’s face. He reaches up to run the back of his knuckles gently over the sharp line of his jaw and cups the side of his neck. His thumb brushes over the mark he’s left behind.

Steve might end up regretting giving his cravat to Billy with his neck looking like that, but Billy honestly can’t help but drink the sight of him in.

Steve nods, throat clicking on a dry swallow. “Yes,” he finally says. “It felt really good, Billy.”

Steve has his hands tangled in Billy’s tunic again. When Billy looks down at them, those long, clever digits wrapped up in linen, Billy has a sharp and sudden image of Steve splayed out on a large bed clutching at soft sheets just like he clutches at Billy’s shirt.

His dick twitches in his trousers and Steve looks down to where Billy’s cock presses against Steve’s leg.

“I don’t- um, do you want me to-”

“I’ll be fine, Steve. You should go get cleaned up.” It’s getting later and later, and the pale blue has since given way to pale white. “It’s getting too late.”

“Okay,” he breathes, but neither of them move.

Steve slides his hands up Billy’s chest to his shoulders. Steve’s taller by an inch or two, and Billy’s never had that before. He’s always ended up with lovers smaller than himself… other than Henrietta. Billy leans in for another soft kiss, this one lingering and deep as Billy’s tongue slides back into Steve’s mouth with a slick, filthy twist. Steve moans and digs short, blunt nails into Billy’s shoulders.

Once Billy has pulled away, he nuzzles Steve’s neck one last time and then kisses him, just at the base of Steve’s throat. Then he pulls away.

“Meet me here again,” Steven pleads, reaching for Billy’s hands. He curls his fingers around Billy’s, soft over rough, and idly Billy wonders what Steve thinks of his hands—hardened from labor, rough like the lower class working man he is. “Please. I must see you again.”

“You’ll see me again, Stevie,” Billy replies with an amused grin. It softens slightly as he thinks it over. “Meet me here, right here, on Saturday during the morning harvest. Everyone will be busy helping.”

“What about you? Won’t you get in trouble for shirking your duties?”

“I have off on Saturday,” Billy lies smoothly. No one begs off of work during the harvest season. “Will you meet me then? Right here?”

“I’ll meet you,” Steve affirms, nodding and leaning in to kiss Billy again. He wrinkles his nose and wriggles a little in his trousers.

Billy can’t help but snicker.

“I thought I told you to go clean up,” Billy says in a playfully dark tone.

Steve bites at his lower lip and curls his fingers tighter into Billy’s tunic.

 _Oh._ Now that’s a reaction Billy is going to remember.

“I’m going,” Steve whispers, pink-cheeked again, and Billy can’t help but lean in one last time to kiss him. It’s barely a peck, a mere brush of lips so soft and gentle Billy swears he’s about to break with how fragile and precious this moment is to him. “Saturday.”

“Saturday,” Billy nods.

Steve ducks out of their nook, casting a lingering glance back at Billy before he slips out of sight.

Billy groans and leans forward to hit his head lightly against the wall. He’s an idiot. Of course Billy will get in trouble for not being around to help with the harvest. The stable master will have some choice words for him, maybe a lash or two.

But after just one day with Steve, Billy knows skipping will be worth the punishment.

**Author's Note:**

> Consider leaving a comment and/or a kudo if you enjoyed!! Let me know what you think.


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